


Crazymadgreat

by gala_apples



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Genderplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having drunk, pyromaniac friends can lead to both horrible and wonderful things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazymadgreat

It's not like it's real cross dressing. Not really. Sid's not doing it because he thinks he makes a lovely girl, or to get off. It's simply the least bad in a range of horrible possibilities.

Following party at Michelle's, a night he can classify as great for the simple reason that he can't remember it, he'd woken up cold. Hung over, but sober, he'd quickly figured out the cause of the cold chill had been his own nudity.

It's not like it's the first time he's woken up naked. It's just normally at Tony's place, where he can hide in the morning, or in the back of his dad's car outside a rave, most of his friends coming down still inside. It's Michelle's house, where his options are limited. It's not even Michelle's old house, where he could run the fifteen blocks home, praying that not too many neighbours were looking out their windows. Now Michelle lives way the fuck out, and if Sid wants to go home it's either wait for people to wake up so he can beg off a ride, or catch the bus.

He could look for his clothes. But they could be anywhere, he could be looking until Michelle's parents get home two days from now. For all he knows, James and Alex could have burnt them, creepy little pyros they are. The longer he waits, the higher the chance that someone's going to catch him.

He could try to strip one of those that are still passed out. Pass on the problem. But there will be a world of horrible questions if Posh Kenneth wakes up to a naked Sid stripping him nude.

No, the best answer is to go into Michelle's room, tiptoeing so he doesn't wake her up, and borrow the manliest looking stuff she has. Which, bloody hell, he'd never thought he'd be upset about her utter femaleness. Tight, curvy jeans, which he's pretty sure have a studded design on the arsecheek pocket. A short closecut shirt, fucking lavender none the less. Polkadotted slip-on canvas shoes. Looking at himself in the mirror, Sid starts to reconsider the pros and cons of nudity.

Still, he's got the low seated feeling in his stomach that means he might puke, and he'd rather rather do that in his own house. He pulls the jeans up futilely, evil low cut things, and tugs at his hat. At least he still has his hat. His wallet is safe in Tony's pocket, though the gram tucked inside the zippered coins pouch is gone. Sid doesn't really care; he'll just smoke Tony's the next time they hang out. He smiles at the sleeping couple and leaves the house.

He walks with his head down, eyes squinted against the bright morning sun. He looks up just in time to see the bus charging down the street. Sid eyes the distance. If he runs as fast as he can, he still won't get within distance that waving at the driver will make him stop. He's screwed, he'll have to wait about 50 minutes for the next bus.

The sun beats down on his shoulders. He was shaking from the hangover, but now the heat of the morning is warming him up too much. It makes the shirt itchy and sticky against his back, his sweaty hair beginning to curl. Sid needs a drink of water, but the last place he needs to go is back inside the house.

And really, just when it seems like things can't get worse, things get worse. "Hello. What's your name then?"

Jesus, Mary and fucking hell, it's Tony. And he's hitting on him. To an outsider it might appear an innocent inquiry, but Sid knows better. He's watched his game for five years now. Still, there's nothing to do but ignore him, and hope he goes back to the house.

"I'm Tony. Where are you headed?" The voice is closer, and Sid tries his best to stop himself from fleeing. It's a close thing.

Tony's hand is on his shoulder, making sure he's got his prey's attention. Sid shrugs the brunet's hand off, but Tony continues undaunted.

"I'm going to- Oh...Sid." Now it's so time for his careers application to come through and let a giant hole in the ground take him. He can't say anything, can't even look at him through the corner of his eye.

"You've got a nice arse."

Okay, so he can talk. "What?" Maybe screech is more like it.

"From behind, you look really hot. Nice arse, great shoulders. From the back, I'd do you."

"Oh, thanks." Because how the hell else is he supposed to answer that?

"You know, if Michelle had know you were into it, she probably would have lent you something better."

"Fuck off Tony."

"Could have told me about it too."

"Fuck OFF, Tone!" With this Sid shoots a look at Tony. If looks could kill, Tony would be dust. Tony doesn't even flinch. He stands like it's the most normal thing and for fucksakes, he's eating a nutritious breakfast of a green apple. How is Tony always so pulled together? How does life hate him that much, that Sid can't even wear his own pants home, and Tony's having breakfast?

"Wouldn't have been horrified." Crunch, goes the apple.

There is clearly no way he's going to get Tony to leave him alone. The best thing Sid can do is not respond so he gets bored sooner.

"Wouldn't have even been shocked."

"What? Fuck you." Sid might seem a lot of things, but he doesn't project 'I'm clearly a crossdresser' vibes.

"I'm just saying, you look good." And Sid pinballs back to silent treatment. Which in retrospect is a good thing because at least Sid's mouth isn't open when Tony leans in to snog him.

Tony doesn't seem to notice that Sid's posture is rail stiff against him, frozen with shock. Before Sid can react, Tony reaches both hands around and grabs his arse. His finger dig in hard, and Sid doesn't know why he's not punching Tony in the face. "Fuck, you've got a nice arse."

Sid's not going to let him win. He can feel Tony's tongue prodding at his lips. He wants entrance, but if Sid can't do anything else, he at least won't open his mouth to deepen the kiss.

But just like any other time Sid's actually decided to stay firm in his beliefs, Tony changes the rules. With a last sarcastic feeling dry kiss against his lips, Tony moves. He starts in on his neck, licking and nibbling. Sid gasps for the first time, and even in the first nanosecond knows he's lost. Whatever the fuck this is, he _wants_ it.

"See?" Tony whispers against his neck, and Sid wants to hate him, yearns to be the sort of person that could hate someone for that, but he isn't, he can't. Instead he rocks forward into Tony's hip, cock -which is somehow already traitorously steel hard- grinding against firm flesh and muscle. When his body tries to complete the action by going back after going forward, Tony's already changed his grip, restricting Sid's range of movement. Tony's holding him tightly against his inner thigh, and he can feel Tony's cock against his. It's crazymadgreat.

He can feel Tony's fingers rucking up his shirt. His hands are cool against Sid's back, which is slicked with sweat. His head is knocked back, sun burning through his closed eyelids, and Tony's teeth never stop their nipping. His hands slide down, and then Tony's fingers are down the back of his jeans, and _shit_ , Sid remembers. He jerks hard, trying to buck Tony's hands away, but Tony's stance is harder.

"You're wearing knickers?" Tony asks incredulously. At any other time Sid would enjoy getting this reaction from Tony, the few times he can knock Tony off balance are sweet as honey. But the question rings out, and there's only one possible answer.

"I didn't want to wear them. But I didn't want to rub my bits all over the inside of her jeans." Because that would just be horrifically creepy. How could he ever return them, if his bollocks had been all over the inside? He supposes he's lucky that she owned a few pairs of pants that weren't thongs. On the other hand these have red elastic and a cherries print, so he's not that lucky.

"Stop stammering. It's hot." Tony's grin shouldn't be so much of a turn on. Seeing Tony smirking at him shouldn't make Sid even harder than he already is.

Tony uses his hands on Sid's arse to guide him against the glass bus shelter. It's hard against his shoulder blades, and Tony is pressed against his chest. For all intents and purposes, Sid is utterly trapped. Shagging in public, dressed like a girl, it's just _fucked_. He thrusts forward as Tony rolls against him, a direct lightning bolt of heat to his arousal. There's a hand beside Sid's head, the other with fingers playing with his arsecrack, Tony's tongue on his neck and cock hard against his. Everything is spiralling out of control, and with each second Sid gets closer to coming.

"Love this," Tony whispers, and it's the closest Sid will ever get to _I love you_ , and for just a moment in the sickly orange dawn it's enough. His fists tighten in Tony's shirt, his arse clenches and all his muscles get tight as he comes hard inside his pants.

Tony abruptly rolls to the side and Sid watches, panting for breath, as the brunet wanks. Tony's got a brutally fast pace, something Sid would never try. But he likes it, if the way he's biting his lip has any meaning. He shoots, and seconds later the flush in his face goes down, and he's standing straight, zipping his jeans. No wonder Tony's always trying to make life more fun and complicated, if that's the length of time his gratification lasts.

Tony gives him a once over, eyes lingering on his neck, then his groin. "You came in your pants. You're wet, like a girl."

Sid looks down to see the spreading darkness around his groin. Christ, it really does look like he's got a porno style dripping wet cunt. How the fuck is he going to get home? He can't go on the fucking bus like that.

"It's really bloody hot."

Sid smiles bashfully for the briefest of seconds before plastering over it with a frown. Tony thinking he makes a hot girl is entirely fucked up. And he's even more fucked up for thinking that it's maybe not so bad to make a hot chick. Life is messed up, and he's going to punch James and Alex in the nose if he ever finds out they're the ones who stole his clothes.


End file.
